


Dance With Me

by Epiphany_Of_Light



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Dancing, Fluff, In Love, It's too fluffy, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock Loves John, Slow Dancing, Teaching, did i say fluff, dips, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphany_Of_Light/pseuds/Epiphany_Of_Light
Summary: John doesn't know how to dance. However, his gay flatmate has a knack for it.





	Dance With Me

“Sherlock, no.” John couldn’t believe the persistence of his flatmate, and, although Sherlock could be very friendly at times, John drew the line at dancing the waltz. Sherlock laughed. An actual laugh. John couldn’t believe it. Sherlock never laughed. But here he was, laughing. He was happy. Wasn’t he? “John, I suggested it merely because you have a wedding coming up and you have no idea how to dance.” John stopped thinking so highly of Sherlock. “Yes, I do to know how. I learned at… school.” John looked at Sherlock, saw that he was not fooled, and sighed. “Fine. No dipping, though.” Sherlock laughed again. “No dipping,” he agreed.

NEXT DAY

A graceful violin song, echoing the gentle sway of the classic waltz, filled the flat.

John stepped forward, and restarted it. He paused it, waiting for Sherlock. Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, wearing a tight-fitting suit.

A pair of reindeer antlers, made of a floppy felt, adorned his head.

“Sherlock?” Inquired John, “why…?”

Sherlock glanced up, and smiled.

“They’re there to simulate the bride’s veil,” he said with all seriousness.

John stared.

“Okay.”

Sherlock stepped forward. “Alright,” he said, and John noticed a slight crack in his voice,

“So. John. You take your partner’s hand in your left hand,” John awkwardly took Sherlock’s hand in his, feeling his face flush.

“Yes, yes, like that.” John nodded in response.

“Now what?” Sherlock quirked a half-smile.

“You won’t like this,” he smirked.

John looked at him expectantly. Sherlock shrugged.

“Now, you put your right hand on your partner’s waist…”

John slowly reached down with his right hand and, gently, set it on Sherlock’s hip. Sherlock looked at it for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

“Yes. Good. Um, now I put my arm on your shoulder… and now we can learn the steps.”

John stared at Sherlock for a few seconds. He’d never seen him be hesitant before.

“Hm, yes, ok, good,” John blurted.

Sherlock nodded. He reached over and pressed the play button on the recorder. A pure violin solo filled the room once again.

Sherlock smiled. “Alright, John, now just mimic me. We’ll go slow at first.”

John nodded, suddenly feeling big and clumsy. Sherlock gracefully stepped forward, first with his right foot. John stepped back quickly, and felt his face nearly burn off. After doing this a few times, he tried looking up at Sherlock for assurance. Sherlock looked up, too, distracted, and didn’t take a step, resulting in John stepping forward alone, and bringing his face about three inches away from Sherlock’s.

Time stopped around them.

A single dark ringlet fell around Sherlock’s temple.

John saw it.

The window reflected London into Sherlock’s eyes.

John saw it.

A pale colour rose to Sherlock’s high cheekbones, and John saw that too.

He realized that his lips were parted, and they felt so dry. He ran his tongue along them, out of habit, and Sherlock’s blush spread further up his face. He took the proper step back. John cleared his throat, ran his hand through his hair, asserted in his mind that he was still straight, and continued with less emotion. At the end, the violin soared gracefully, but Sherlock stood still.

John frowned. “Sherlock? What do I do at that part?”

John felt sure that Sherlock was leaving something out. Sherlock snorted.

“That’s where you dip her, John,” he said drily, “but you didn’t want me to teach you, so you can just figure it out.”

John stared. He wasn’t sure why Sherlock was being so distant and grumpy all of a sudden. John blinked, then realized that Sherlock had began to leave the room.

“Hey-” He grabbed Sherlock’s wrist, and felt him stiffen irritably at the touch. John turned him around.

“Sherlock, I’d like it if you taught me.” Sherlock stared.

“Teach you what?”

John laughed. “The dip thing, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked offended; the said, “It’s not a dip thing, John, it’s a lovely and thoughtful way to work simple elegance into a waltz whilst also showing your-” John cut him off.

“Sherlock. Okay. In that case, I’d love it if you taught me how to do the dip.”

Sherlock smiled. “Of course.”

John smiled, feeling relieved that Sherlock seemed to have forgotten his irritation.

John reached over, rewound the tape a little ways, and settled his hand on Sherlock’s hip. Sherlock stared for a second, and then reached down and took John’s hand. They picked up on the waltz for a few steps, and then the music began to soar. Slowly, Sherlock guided John’s hands around his neck, gently slipped one of his own hands behind John’s back, and gripped his waist in the other. Then, slowly, he arched his back towards the ground. He could feel John’s uncertainty, but he felt trust there too. When he was fully into it, Sherlock’s face was centimeters away from John’s. He looked wistfully into the blue-grey eyes, and smiled.

“And this is where you kiss, John…” he said huskily.

He remained a few seconds in that position, before bringing him upright again. John looked shaken. He knew that Sherlock had done it very well, expertly even, but he couldn’t get Sherlock’s comment out of his head.

“And this is where you kiss, John…” He thought about the break in Sherlock’s voice. His thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock softly taking his hand again.

“Now, John, it’s your turn.”

John was nervous, but gained a little confidence as he moved through the now-familiar dance routine. As the music soared, he felt Sherlock’s arms go round his neck, and, remembering Sherlock’s motions before, John slipped one hand behind his back, and cradled his waist in the other. Then, slowly, John swept back, bringing Sherlock almost parallel to the ground. He smiled, and said, “Is this where you kiss?” Sherlock let out a small breath. A delicate ringlet fell into Sherlock’s face, and, without thinking, John reached out and swept it aside. John could feel Sherlock’s heart start beating faster, and seemed to threaten to burst out of his chest, but just as quickly, John stood up again. He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds.

“Sherlock?” He prompted, glancing pointedly at Sherlock’s arms, still around his neck.

Sherlock smirked, and then, just as pointedly, quipped, “John?” and nodded his head at John’s hands on his waist and back.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence in the flat, filled only by the white noise of the tape recorder having reached the end and Mrs. Hudson vacuuming downstairs. A single floppy antler fell across Sherlock’s eyes. John laughed softly.

“Sherlock,” he started, and reached forward to push it out of his face. “Sherlock,” He tried again, “there’s something I probably should tell you.”

Sherlock looked at John with a look of mock surprise.

“As do I.”

John sighed.

“May I go first, or would you like to feel important and go first?”

Sherlock coughed into his fist. “Excuse me. Please, go.”

John smiled. “I’m not gay,” he stated.

Sherlock’s face fell, and although subtly, John caught it. “I’m bisexual.”

Sherlock choked and immediately had to stare at the crumbly beige tissue box very intensely.

“Sherlock,” tried John again, “I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”

Sherlock plucked a tissue out of the box and rubbed his face with it.

“Hm.”

He grunted. Trying not to look pleased, he snorted. “And your point is? I knew that already.”

John stared. “My point.”

Sherlock slowly put down the tissue, and looked at John.

“Yes, John. Your point. What is it?”

John laughed dryly. “You can be so unbelievably thick sometimes.”

He took a step towards Sherlock, bringing his face a bit closer. On purpose. Sherlock picked up the tissue again without taking his eyes off John. He took a step forwards, replacing the antlers with the tissue.

“Why, pray tell, is there a tissue on your head, Sherlock,” John whispered.

Sherlock raised an expressive eyebrow at him.

“It’s there to simulate the bride’s veil,” he whispered back.

John looked smug. “Who said anything about a bride?”

He closed the distance between them until they were millimeters apart, the only thing between them was many years of friendship and straight nonsense. Sherlock leaned just a bit closer and pushed through the fragile layer. When he pulled away, he smiled shakily.

Looking at John, he said, “I really hope that I didn’t misinterpret your feelings towards me.”

John shook his head, unable to speak. He grinned. “I’m busy, Sherlock… I have a wedding to cancel.” John looked pensive.

“And, perhaps, one to set up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this- I really hope you liked it. If you did, please leave kudos. I love you all so much. <3


End file.
